


I Dont Like Cats

by soulmuzik



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Black Betty Ross, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I dont know the name of Valkyrie's girlfriend, So I named her Sigga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 10:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14809868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulmuzik/pseuds/soulmuzik
Summary: "I don’t know…sometimes companionship, even small, can help us heal. Ever thought of getting a pet?”Yes, she doesn’t say. Once. With Sigga. Not anymore.“I don’t like cats”, she says instead.





	I Dont Like Cats

**Author's Note:**

> I've been really heavy handed with the Cat AUs lately, I'm sorry yall. I've had writer's block on all the other projects, so I thought: 'hey, why not start a new one' LOL im so tired.
> 
> FC for Betty Ross: Nia Long
> 
> ANYWHO...Neighbors AU with Cats. That's what the prompt said. 
> 
> HAVE FUN!

The first night it happened, Val marveled at her own restraint to not throw _knives_ at her little intruder. She was up, as she had been every night, getting a drink of water as she had for the last few in the past seven months, because she was trying out sobriety. The flat had been scrubbed clean of anything with an ounce of alcohol, courtesy of an _enthusiastic_ Bruce Banner, but old habits died hard--and _slow_. Even if she wasn’t drinking vodka, the schedule kept her sane on this very tedious journey.

She lived alone. She liked that. It was quiet, there were no surprises.

Except, of course, for the prettiest black kitten skidding across the kitchen linoleum and making her _forget herself_.

“Fuck”, she yelled, voice cracking only a little from the shock of it all, jumping three feet away from the fridge and out of the kitchen all together as the cat mirrored her, cowering in the corner and mewling, as if she’d scared _it_.

Taking a second, she flicked the lights on, squinting against it as her face melted into a scowl, “what are you doing in my house, cat?”

The cat blinked up at her, as if _that_ were an answer.

Val looks around the kitchen, finding her sliding window had been cracked. Not enough for a person to fit through, sure, but definitely enough for a skinny little thing like her uninvited house guest. Sighing at the oven clock that read 4:38am, she pointed at the cat, snapped, and then pointed to the window, “out you go.”

It answered with another blink.

“Look”, she said around a sigh, “I am _tired_ , it is _early_ , and I don’t even _know_ you. You could have fleas. Or…whatever cats have. Just get out.” She crossed her arms, all resolve in her too big ‘Seniors’ high school t-shirt and fuzzy house boots. The cat actually made towards her, paws a little too big and stride a little too poised so it looked funny. Like it flopped, but with grace. Instead of hopping back on the window sill, onto the fire escape, and back to the depths from whence it came, she felt a little head press to her shins. And a purr.

“Oh, come on”, she bent down and took the cat, as gently as she could muster, under the arms and legs and put half its body firmly on the sill, “you gotta go, cat. Thanks for stopping in; I’ll keep you in mind if I’m ever in the mood for guests but now is _not_ the time.” Comfortable with the manhandling it seemed, the cat purred all while pushing her hindlegs off Val’s forearms and back onto the fire escape. It turned back to her, all big yellow eyes and still rumbling from the contact before. Maybe it was apologizing. Val sighed, sticking her hand out and watching the cat dip its head into her palm like that had been all it was waiting on. Val scratched it behind the ear, “your apology is accepted. Now find some place to be.” After one more indulgent purr, the cat stole away from the window, clumsy paws as graceful as before.

Val went to bed a little earlier than usual that night.

~*~*~*~*~

“Well, you handled that well. I’m glad you didn’t stab the poor thing”, Bruce says distractedly over the phone while she chopped vegetables for the dinner she didnt feel like cooking herself. Keyana ‘the Sponsor’ and Bruce alike were concerned with all of her life habits. Drinking, it seems, wasn’t the only thing she shouldn’t have been doing. She didn’t eat well and choose to sleep slumped against a bar stool instead of in the bed she used to share with her--with Sigga. Coming home from war was hard. Losing someone to that war was harder, and she didn’t cope well. Hence the drinking, and all the terrible decisions that came along with it. By the time she’d finally let Bruce _in_ , she was pretty much made of beer nuts and white liquor.

“Yeah, well she didn’t make it easy; what kind of animal purrs against a stranger’s leg?”

“…a cat?” She hears a shuffle, and the breathy voice of an undeniably tired Betty Ross, more than likely coming home from an overnight shift. Val smiles. Bruce had sublet the whole apartment to her because he’d reconnected with a certain brown skinned, brown-eyed brunette, and spent so much time at her place that it never felt like they were roommates to begin with. It was nice. He was happy and Val could cry in private. Everybody won.

“Tell Betty I said hello”, Val tosses the vegetables in the frying pan, picking it up and lightly swiveling, “what do I do about the cat, Bruce?”

“Lock the window, Val”, she hears a laugh from Betty and realizes that this conversation will end soon, “or make a new friend.”

“I don’t need any new friends, Bruce. I’ve got you. That’s enough”, she set the pan down, and is glad no one is here to see her face go all soft at how happy they sound, wordless. She can hear the smile in Bruce’s whisper. She can hear the relief in Betty’s. Yes, it’s rude to ignore her but she can forgive it, this once. “Sorry---Val, making a new friend may be good for you. I don’t know…sometimes companionship, even small, can help us heal. Ever thought of getting a pet?”

 _Yes,_ she doesn’t say. _Once_. _With Sigga. Not anymore._

“I don’t like cats”, she says instead, and does not register the smell of burnt food until after the sauté has become a deep fry, “shit.”

~*~*~*~*~

The second time it happened, Val did throw some things. Lucky for her new friend, she was carrying her laundry and not the knives she never seemed to have handy in these situations.

“Damnit, not this again”, she said, when she saw those two yellow eyes and how familiar the kitten had got, even _before_ the lights had been turned on. “You’re lucky I’m packing _socks_ , freeloader”, she said, sauntering over to the window to see just how the cat could have gotten in. She placed her basket down on the counter, and absentmindedly made her way to the window. “Next thing I know you’ll start bringing friends—"

She heard him before she saw him. A man who did not belong on her fire escape at 10pm, donning black leather and looking like a _problem_.

“Hi.”

 “ _BLOODY HELL_ ”, Val shut her window, reflexively. Whatever the tall, blonde, confused stranger was saying on the other side of the window was muffled and it took Val a minute to gather herself before she locked the window. “ _Go away._ Or I’ll call the cops.” She sighed, hazarding a look at her furry, troublesome companion, who had made a lovely home beside the balled-up pair of socks she’d launched at it before.

The stranger tapped the window, gaining her more immediate attention again. He shook his head, holding his cellphone screen up to the window. Scowling, Val leaned over to read the too-small-text.

_‘I’m sorry I scared you. Do not call 911. That’s my cat.’_

Val could have laughed, if this situation weren’t so annoying, “right! I’ll give you till the count of three!” His brows knit together, and his jaw dropped a little in thoughtful protest. She pulled her phone from the band of her short and put her hand up to his line of sight. “One”, she rose her pinky, while his wide blue eyes, looking between her and his phone, tried to both protest and type.

 “ _Two_ ”, she brought up her ring finger, thumb hovering over the call button on her phone, and preparing herself to turn her middle finger on him and end this unfortunate night, when he held him phone up to the window, once more.

_‘check her tags—she’s got a pink piece of paper that says who to return her to don’t call the cops i just want my kreerlen’_

Val blew out a huge sigh, shaking her head, “Check your spelling” She didn’t take her eyes off him dropping down to the already purring kitten. Indeed, her too well-hidden collar had a tag with the building’s address and the name Thor Odinson. When she did look back up, the man had pressed his wallet to the window, eyes gone from frantic to impatient, a distinct, familiar look that said he was over this whole thing—I. D reading Thor Odinson.

Val had lost her propensity for shame a very long time ago, but if she had any, the undertones of her skin would give her away. She glared at the cat, “I’m padlocking the window, you nuisance.” Val raised the window enough for the cat to get through once she put her on the sill. The little black kitten slunk through the crack to her very wounded looking owner. Thor.

“Thank you”, he said, not sounding thankful _at all_.

“Put a _leash_ on her, dude.”

They stood there, an entire wall between them, and even that could not save them from the awkwardness of all of this. He spoke first, “I’m…sorry.”

Val looked at him, past the dust sheen on the window and right into his very clear blue eyes—how they shined, even in the dark. How all that leather he was wrapped up in was a poor indicator of the sweetness of those eyes and the too-good-to-be-true kindness in his smile.

It was enough for Val to pay attention to, and for a moment, forget why all of it made her feel so warm.

So she looked at him again, trying to figure it out, when she got it.

She swallowed past the rush of feeling and memory knotting in her throat, “no…trouble.”

She shut the window before she could hear him respond, and walked away from it and him and the _memories_ and pressed herself firmly against the wall, out of sight.

Only after she heard his footsteps fading away did she let herself cry.

~*~*~*~*~

This time, she and Bruce met in person. She didn’t think she could be in her apartment alone too much longer.

“That’s two friends now. You move fast”, Bruce said, a smile behind his traitorous Venti medicine ball tea. Some bougie shit Betty’s got him drinking to keep him _calm_ , or whatever. Val was drinking a red-eye at three in the afternoon.

She didn’t sleep very well.

“That big blonde weirdo is _not_ my friend”, Val’s knee jumped, absently. She didn’t notice. Bruce did. “He’s damn near an intruder. I see where the cat gets it from.” She ignored the way her mind recalled his face—those eyes and that smile so clearly etched into her memory, “I mean, what was he going to do, climb in after the cat? Christ.” Bruce is looking at her, his legs crossed at the ankle. His freshly cut gray hair compliments the dark mahogany of his glasses. His t-shirt, jean, and loafer compilation give him the look of a man with no worries. Val knows better. She knows it has much more to do with the stability of his job at the research facility, and reuniting with the love of his life, and having a life outside the horror of his past.

Hell, it’s probably the tea, too.

“You keep talking about him, Val”, he says, drinking the tea and ignoring the way her eyes bore into the wrinkles in his forehead, “Why is he really on your mind?”

Val doesn’t know the answer to that. What she won’t yet admit is that she looked at that man and forgot how much it hurt to like someone. And she didn’t want to forget the hurt…she doesn’t think she was ready yet.

“I don’t know”, she says instead. Bruce drinks his tea, and lets go of a sigh. They sit in a cramped silence. Val thinks that maybe this is his way of squeezing the truth out of her. But she’s great at games and refuses to lose. So she’ll sit in that terrible silence for as long as she can.

“I can do this all day”, Bruce smirks, looking at her straight and reading her mind.

Val downs the rest of her drink, “so can I. More tea?”

~*~*~*~*~

The next night is silent. Val sits at the kitchen island, deciding between burning a pan of chicken parmesan or ordering Pad Thai when she hears a knock at the door.

It’s a change of pace she was not expecting, but welcomes, none the less. The quiet was starting to get to her and even her precious schedule wasn’t helping.

Her curiosity could breed excitement, and so she tapers it down. A visitor doesn’t necessarily mean anything good, if that cat was any indication. This could be Mildred, from the second floor, asking her if she knows where the weed dealer is on the 3rd floor (whom she still doesn’t know). Or Khandice, from next door, giving her a heads up about her company that evening. Loud, yes—but also gracious. It could be anything. It could be nothing

 “Who is it?”

“Hi...it’s uh—it’s Thor”

It could be _everything_.

Val resists the sudden, traitorous urge to check herself out in the mirror, and pretends she’s only lingering on her reflection in the peep hole to make sure it’s really him.

“Yeah?”, she says, proud of her careless tone of voice. _Good job Val. Never let ‘em see you sweat._

Thor does not share that sentiment. His face is etched in regret, his hand at the back of his neck and his lips pulled back against his teeth in a wince. Like he’s in physical pain. He drops it when he sees the question in Val’s face. “Hi—yes…thank you, for—answering the door…uhm, I wanted to thank you for giving my cat back.” He nods, and without her permission continues to ramble. She does a terrible job of suppressing her amusement, “I mean…she belongs to me, so you ought to. Not that I’m trying to tell you what to do, but thank you…”

Val doesn’t smile. At least, she hopes she doesn’t. “You’re welcome.” The discomfort of his awkwardness rises up in the space around them until their basically built into a wall of it. When the source of the embarrassment is not her own, Val can bask in these moments. He avoids her eyes, and she looks squarely at him, no longer in control of the way the left corner of her mouth turns up. “Is there something...else?”

“I just thought that maybe I could thank you more properly”, he said, and while neither of them should have, her brows rose in suggestion, and his eyes dropped with his voice in a low laugh, “I mean…with dinner.” He laughs now, genuinely, “I think Mimi has disturbed enough of your nights. I would like to make up for it.”

And there it is again—the absence of heartache. In only a couple moments, Val was reminded that she, indeed, could still be flattered and wooed, and that the lost love of her life did not have to be the only one to hold sway in those areas. For a moment, Val was reminded that she wasn’t made of stone.

Its only after, when she looks up into his eyes and sees the familiarity giving way to the memories she keeps trying to run away from, that she gives pause. “I…that’s really nice of you. But I don’t think I can.”

The shine in his eyes does not dull, and it catches her unlike anything else about him, “If you change your mind, I live in 4c, above you.” He bites his bottom lip, taking his loss like a win and bowing a goodbye before he turns to the staircase.

Val watches him walk away.

She wonders how bad it would be to change her mind.

~*~*~*~*~

“Did you have sex with him?”

“ _Bruce_ ”, Betty says, exasperated, her hair falling over her shoulder as she whips her head around to him. Her well-kept brows climb high on her smooth forehead and Val thinks that she should maybe stop committing so many of Betty’s features to memory. “Bruce, come on.”

Val shrugs, “I kinda wanted to.”

“You’re both hopeless”, Betty says into her glass, dark hands twining in with Bruce’s. He brings her fingers up to his lips and brushes them against the bottom lip, absently, “I ask only for scientific purposes.”

“I mean…Bruce, he is---so stupid”, she says, no longer looking at the couple twisted up on their couch. Val stares out of Betty’s window instead, and she can’t seem to bring herself out of it, “he came to my door, impulsively, _obviously_ , and asked me to dinner with absolutely no idea if I’d say yes---“, she drinks some of that tea Bruce was having yesterday, and she blames that for the softness in her voice, “what an idiot.”

When she finally looks back at them, Betty is looking at her the way mother’s must look at their children when they’re proud of them. And Bruce is looking at her like she’s part fool, part world famous phenomena, “I don’t think he was.”

“Let him take you out”, Betty says, pressing her cheek to Bruce’s shirt. He wears some dark blue that looks gorgeous against the dark hues of Betty’s skin. “I haven’t seen you smile like that—ever”, she laughs and like he does whenever Betty does anything, Bruce gets wrapped up in it.

“Seriously, V”, Bruce says, pulling his eyes away from Betty like it hurts, “this could be fun. You deserve a good time. And hey! If you do have a good time, you’ll have your best friend to thank.”

Val snorts, “Bruce, aren’t you given credit for enough of my good deeds?”

Bruce smirks, “I’m flattered. But I mean the _cat_.”

~*~*~*~*~

Val is carrying her water bottle, as a security blanket. She used to drink when she felt nervous…or, anything. And right now, her stomach is knotted and her chest feels like there’s too much air in it. She pushed her free hanging curls behind her ears, tucks her water bottle into her Friday Night purse she wears on a Wednesday night, and knocks on the door apartment 4c.

When the door swings open, the first thing to spring free is a very small, very wet, very upset black kitten.

She scoops her up on impulse, looking back to Thor in a white tank top and yellow rubber gloves, a large towel in his hands. Panic passes from his face to embarrassment, accompanied by his all too charismatic smile, “thank you”, he says, grateful this time, taking the squirming wet cat from her embrace. His eyes roamed, “you look nice.”

“I did, didn’t I?” She laughs, and he shakes his head, laughing at the shivering cat, wrapped up in his arms.

“I am so sorry”, he says, laugh barely baited.

“You know what? Don’t be.” Val said, stepping into his space. Maybe it was his eyes, or the time of night, or the nerves, or the fact that she was standing in the hallways in front of her neighbor’s door, clothes soaked through because of that damn cat, but she leaned up and kissed him.

Her lips tingled and the air in her chest made her feel like she could fly, “I’d like to take you up on that dinner offer.”

Thor’s eyes, shining and soft and endlessly possible made her feel like maybe, even if she was still hurting, there was room for something else. “If you aren’t too tired of my cat, I’m making pasta. Would you like to join me?”

Val’s smile rose up on her face, “are you kidding? She’s the only reason I’m here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts:)


End file.
